Chapter 11:What Matters Most
Jess watched from the porch steps as Don adjusted the last Halloween decoration on the lawn—a grinning inflatable ghost that bobbed slightly in the breeze. He stepped back, hands on his hips, surveying his handiwork with the kind of focus usually reserved for crime scenes or fixing leaky faucets.
They'd planned to decorate anyway—their new street was full of families, and Jess had always liked the idea of being that house during the holidays. But this year, with Lilly in the picture, it felt different. More joyful. More real.
"Think the ghost looks crooked?" Don asked, tilting his head.
Jess squinted. "Only if you're overthinking it."
He grinned and came over to sit beside her, brushing a bit of dirt off his jeans. She leaned against him, content for the moment.
They both had late shifts today, thanks to a morning visit from Dana. Visits were still scheduled every other week—routine check-ins, updates, making sure everything was on track.
Jess liked Dana. She wasn't just ticking boxes—she saw people. Always asked how they were doing, not just how Lilly was adjusting. Today had been no different. She'd brought Lilly a little Halloween sticker book and complimented the decorations before even stepping inside.
"She said Lilly's made real progress," Jess said, her voice lighter now. "That she's showing signs of emotional trust again."
Don raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a good report."
"She even said she sees stability here. Like long-term stability."
Jess didn't say the rest, but the weight of it lingered in the air between them. The possibility. The hope. The what-if that was starting to feel more like a when.
Don didn't push—he just gave her a slow smile. "Well, we're not going anywhere."
"Nope," Jess said, looking at the monitor as the sound of tiny feet echoed from inside.
"She's up," Jess said, standing from the porch steps. "I'll get her—you fix that ghost."
"I knew it was crooked," Don laughed, already heading across the lawn with a grin.
Jess smiled to herself and slipped inside. She padded down the hall to Lilly's room, gently pushing open the door.
Lilly was awake, sitting up in bed, her hair tousled from sleep and Cupcake, her well-loved stuffed bunny, tucked securely under one arm. Her wide eyes met Jess's with quiet expectation.
"Hey, sweetie," Jess said softly as Lilly rubbed her eyes. "Wanna see the decorations before daycare?"
Lilly nodded and reached out for Jess's hand.
They stepped outside together, and Jess felt Lilly's fingers tighten with excitement. The second the decorations came into view, Lilly's eyes lit up and her whole face broke into a smile. She let go of Jess's hand and ran straight to the inflatable ghost, wrapping her arms around it like it was an old friend.
Jess laughed. "I think it's a hit."
Don walked over, tugging the ghost slightly straighter with a smirk. "You head on in—your shift starts before mine. I'll take her to daycare today."
Jess looked at him, heart full. "Thanks. Really."
He just shrugged. "We're in this together."
And they were. From the moment Jess had carried Lilly out of that dark shed to now—morning routines, daycare pickups, nightlight checks—Don had never hesitated. He hadn't just stepped in. He stayed in.
Jess gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and headed inside to finish getting ready. Her dad was picking Lilly up from daycare at five. He and Sherry were staying over tonight instead of driving back to Jersey, eager for extra time with their newest grandchild.
She couldn't blame them.
They weren't just decorating for Halloween. They were creating traditions—memories that wrapped around all of them like soft blankets.
And for the first time in a long time, it felt like a forever kind of thing.
Jess stood over the body, her breath misting in the crisp autumn air. The alley behind the historic theater on 45th was sealed off, patrol officers keeping a growing crowd at bay with yellow tape and firm voices.
She flipped open her notepad as Mac and Jo arrived, both carrying their CSI field kits.
"Victim is male," Jess began, voice steady. "Mid-forties. Expensive tailored coat, Italian leather shoes. No wallet, no phone, no ID."
She glanced down at the body again. But that wasn't what made this strange.
"No sign of a struggle," she added, flipping through the preliminary notes. "Nothing taken—except for the usual."
"Except for the cufflink," Mac noted, crouching beside the body. He pointed to the victim's left wrist. One cufflink was gone. The other—a sleek silver piece with a strange monogram—glinted faintly under the alley lights.
"Yeah, that's odd," Jess said,
As Jo tagged it before slipping it carefully into an evidence bag. "No defensive wounds. No sign he fought back. Looks like he knew his killer."
Jess glanced toward the theater entrance. "There's a small group rehearsing inside. Off-Broadway noir revival. They said he came in during intermission, acted like he belonged. Even chatted with one of the actors."
Jess nodded, filling them in on what she'd learned so far.
Mac stood, brows drawn tight. "So he makes a scene, then ends up dead an hour later out here?"
"Either a message," Jo said, crossing her arms, "or a mistake."
Jess looked down at the victim one last time, that glint of silver still in her mind.
"Whoever he was," she said quietly, "he came here for a reason."
The cufflink sat under the magnifying lens, its polished silver surface catching the sterile light. Jess stood next to Adam, who was already several layers deep into his research. Mac and Jo hovered nearby, reviewing security footage from the theater on a separate monitor.
Jess leaned in. "Any luck?"
Adam pointed at the zoomed-in image on his screen. "The symbol isn't a monogram—at least, not a traditional one. It's actually a logo. Took a bit to trace, but it matches the crest of an old private club downtown—The Marlowe Society."
Jess raised an eyebrow. "That's the literary club, right? Writers, actors, professors... bunch of people who drink scotch and quote Shakespeare?"
"That's the one," Adam said. "Used to be exclusive. Still is, but low profile now. Membership's invite-only. No social media. Real old-school."
Jess folded her arms. "Our guy didn't look like he just came from a book reading."
Mac stepped over. "The Marlowe Society has had some… shady footnotes in its history. A few past members tied to scandals—insider trading, hush-hush payouts, the works."
Jo added, "We're talking legacy names. People who don't like being seen in tabloids or body bags."
Jess nodded slowly, gears turning. "So maybe this wasn't random. Maybe he was sending a message to someone in that club—or trying to expose something."
Adam brought up another image. "I also found something else. This exact cufflink—same make, same symbol—was part of a custom pair auctioned off five years ago for charity. Only two were ever made. One pair."
Jo stepped closer. "Who bought them?"
Adam clicked twice, then turned the screen.
Jess's eyes narrowed. The name stared back at her.
Elliot Raines.
Wall Street financier. Known philanthropist. Marlowe Society board member..
Jess leaned back. "Guess we found our ID."
The low hum of computers and quiet murmur of detectives filled the room. Jess sat at her desk, a file open in front of her, photos of Elliot Raines and the auctioned cufflinks spread across the pages. She was halfway through outlining her next interview when her phone buzzed.
She glanced down.
Text from: Sunshine Corner Daycare
Hi Jess. Just wanted to let you know Lilly's running a low-grade fever (100.8). She's resting and not in distress, but she will need to be picked up.
Jess's heart sank. She stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary, her mind shifting instantly from suspects and alibis to fevers and comfort blankets.
She quickly texted back:
Thanks for letting me know. I'll call my dad—he should be there in 10 mins. I'll check in soon.
She hadn't even hit send when another message came in—this one from her dad.
"Sorry honey. Sherry and I seem to have come down with the flu. We're both in bed with a fever."
Jess sighed, slumping back in her chair. Her dad was out. That left Chris—the only other family member legally allowed to take Lilly. But Chris, Megan, and their kids had been sick all week. So that's where it started. Great.
Now what?
Lilly needed to be picked up, and Jess was in the middle of the case. The timing couldn't be worse. She fired off a quick text to Don, fingers crossed.
Can you grab Lilly from daycare? She's running a fever. Please please please.
The message barely had time to deliver when a reply popped up.
Sorry. Danny and I are out in the field.
She let her head drop forward onto the desk with a quiet groan.
She had no other choice.
Jess stood, letting out a long sigh, and walked over to O'Bryan's office. She knocked lightly on the doorframe.
"Hey, sir… Lilly has a fever and needs to be picked up. No one else can get her."
O'Bryan looked up from his computer, his brows knitting together. "Aren't you on the Raines case?"
Jess could only nod.
"It's an active case, Angell. I don't want it going cold." He paused, then leaned back in his chair. "You can clock out, but pass your notes off to Rogers. This will no longer be your collar."
"Yes, sir," Jess replied, swallowing the sting.
That part sucked. She needed her solve rate to stay high—And worse, she hated not being able to finish what she started. But right now, none of that mattered.
Lilly needed her.
The daycare was quieting down for the afternoon nap rush when Jess pulled up. She parked quickly, heart still pounding from the mess at work. Inside, the smell of crayons and applesauce hit her the second she stepped through the door.
A caregiver spotted her and came over, expression soft. "Jess? Lilly's in the nap room. Fever spiked around noon—we tried calling your dad first, but—"
Jess nodded, already walking. "Yeah, I know. He's sick too."
The caregiver gave her a look of concern but didn't push it. Jess appreciated that.
Inside the dim nap room, Lilly was curled up on a nap mat in the corner, wrapped in her favorite yellow blanket. Her cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted. She looked so small—so fragile—and Jess's heart clenched.
She crouched down beside her. "Hey, bug. Time to go home."
Lilly stirred, eyes fluttering open.
Jess smiled softly. "I've got you now."
She lifted her gently, blanket and all, and held her close. Lilly snuggled into her chest without a word.
As Jess carried her out, the caregiver handed her a small tote with Lilly's things. "Temperature was 102.5. Gave her some Tylenol an hour ago. If it stays high tonight…"
"I'll call her doctor," Jess finished, nodding. "Thanks for taking care of her."
Back in the car, Jess buckled Lilly into her car seat, tucking the blanket around her. She lingered a second, watching her eyes drift closed again. She looked peaceful. But Jess wasn't.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket—probably a follow-up about the Raines case. She didn't even bother checking.
Right now, the only case that mattered was this one.
And Jess was all in.
The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the humidifier in Lilly's room. Jess sat on the edge of the bed, a cool washcloth in one hand and the thermometer in the other, watching the numbers climb. 101.9. Better than before, but still too high.
She gently wiped Lilly's forehead. The little girl didn't stir—just breathed slow and heavy, curled under a mountain of blankets and her stuffed bunny tucked tight against her side.
Jess leaned back in the chair, letting her head rest against the wall. The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead. For the first time in hours, she let herself exhale.
But her mind didn't stop. It circled right back to the Raines case.
She couldn't help it—she'd been close. So damn close. The witness had finally come forward. The timeline was tightening. If she'd just had one more day…
Instead, she'd handed it all off to Rogers. Her notes, her interviews, her gut instincts—all passed along like some abandoned puzzle. And she knew how Rogers worked. Thorough, but slow. Too by-the-book. He wouldn't see the cracks Jess had started to notice.
She clenched her jaw.
Promotions were based on stats. Closures. Leadership. And this case could've been the one to tip her over. She'd needed this.
But when the daycare called—none of that had mattered. Not even for a second.
Jess looked over at Lilly again. Her breathing was a little steadier now. A little easier. She reached out and brushed her fingers across Lilly's cheek, warm but not burning.
Jess didn't regret the choice. Not really. But it still stung.
She whispered into the quiet, "You better get better fast, kid. I'm trying to save the world out there."
Lilly didn't answer, of course. Just sighed in her sleep and hugged her bunny tighter.
Jess stayed by her side anyway, the case flickering at the edge of her thoughts—but not enough to pull her away.
It was nearly ten when Jess heard the front door open.
She stood quietly from the couch, the TV still murmuring low in the background. The lights were dim—just the glow from the kitchen under-cabinet lights casting a warm blur across the living room.
Don stepped inside, looking beat. His coat was slung over one shoulder, and his shirt was stained with coffee and something suspiciously red. Jess raised an eyebrow.
"Blood or ketchup?"
"Both," he muttered, kicking off his boots. "Long day."
Jess nodded toward the hallway. "Lilly's asleep. Fever's down a little."
Don's face softened, just a little. "You okay?"
She shrugged, then dropped back onto the couch with a sigh. "Define 'okay.' Gave up my case today. Rogers got it now."
Don winced and walked over, lowering himself beside her with a grunt. "Ouch."
Jess shrugged. "Yeah."
She stared at the muted TV, not really watching it. She couldn't be mad at Don—not really. He'd been in the field all day, buried in the same mess she was. He hadn't asked for her to give it up. It just… fell on her.
Still, it was hard. Hard not to feel the sting when it had to be her that stepped back.
"I didn't even think twice," she said quietly. "Daycare called, and I was already out the door. But I was still pissed the whole way there."
Don didn't say anything at first. Just sat there beside her, the quiet between them familiar.
"You can be both," he said finally. "You can love her and still be mad you lost the case. That doesn't make you a bad cop—or a bad mom."
Jess blinked, then gave a small, tired laugh. "You been reading parenting blogs again?"
He gave a crooked smile. "No, but Danny keeps forwarding me crap. Think he's trying to domesticate me."
She shook her head but smiled too, the edge in her chest easing just a bit.
"She's worth it, though," Jess said after a moment. "Even if my stats take a hit."
Don nodded. "Yeah, she is."
They sat in silence again, but this time it was easier. Softer.
And for the first time all day, Jess felt like maybe she could breathe.